Comfort in the Night
by HopeTheCrazyCat
Summary: In the aftermaths of the events regarding King Jellybean, Morty is still left to deal with the haunting memories and terrifying nightmares. Maybe the one person that he least expected to, can actually help him deal with it… Warnings: angst and trauma (rating is only because of the topic, but nothing too descriptive in here)


AN: I know that by now practically everyone has done it, but I wanted to give it a shot, too.  
I hope I didn't do too bad…

Warnings: angsty stuff, could be read as Rick x Morty, but is not really intended

* * *

 **Comfort in the Night**

Morty turned restlessly in his sheets. From left to right. From right to left.  
He curled in on himself, feeling cold even though he was sweating under the covers.  
With a huff, he peeked from beneath his blanket at the clock on his bedside table. 3:22 AM glared in big red digits back at him.  
Morty already resigned himself to the fact that this would be another of many consecutive sleepless nights. Not that he wasn't dead tired.

Feeling uncomfortable and restricted under the covers of his bed, he wondered what he could do.  
Maybe he could go and check if his grandfather was still working in the garage.  
He knew that if he just sat out of the way and watched him silently or even assisted him in his work, the scientist wouldn't mind his presence.  
Also, it wouldn't be the first night that he spent down there.  
Making up his mind, he slowly crawled out of his bed and made his way downstairs without turning the lights on.  
He tried to be as silent as possible in his descent, not wanting to wake his sleeping sister or parents.

As he reached the last step, he could hear some faint sounds coming from the living room. There were also some flickering lights coming from the archway into said room.  
Upon further inspection, he found that Rick was sitting on the sofa and watching TV instead of tinkering on one of his inventions.  
It wasn't exactly an unusual sight as his ever frantically working grandfather liked to take occasional brakes from his projects and spend them with mindless entertainment.

"Hey, Rick." He greeted his elder as he sat down on the couch beside him in his usual spot.

He was pretty sure that his grandfather wouldn't mind if he sat with him and would watch some TV together.

"Hey. What's up, Morty? Can't sleep?" Rick asked the obvious.

"Yeah, I'm just not feeling very tired." The brunet lied.

There was no way that he would tell Rick the real reason why he was here.  
Rick only hummed in acknowledgement before his focus was back on the TV screen.  
It seemed to be some infomercial for some kitchen device and Morty neither understood what that thing was supposed to be nor how its functions were supposed to make any sense. But interdimensional cable TV was funny this way, he guessed.

The more Morty stared at the flickering TV screen the more his eyes were slowly becoming smaller and smaller, eyelids fluttering in a weak attempt to stay focused and awake.  
It was only when a boney elbow hit him lightly in the side that he noticed that he had started to lean against Rick's frame.

"If you're tired you should go to bed, Morty. I'm not gonna carry your snoring ass upstairs and tug you in when you fall asleep on me." His grandfather said with a half-humorous and a half-serious voice.

"N-no. I'm awake. I'm not falling asleep." Morty tried to defend himself even though his cover was already blown.

"Sure you're not." Rick replied sarcastically. "Just spill what's up. There a monster under your bed or something?"

Morty couldn't tell him. He knew that Rick would only make fun of him if he did.  
He knew himself that it was stupid. It wasn't even like something bad had really happened.  
His virginity was still intact and he was at home and safe now and King Jellybean was dead. Rick had killed him, right after he had brought him to safety and shot him through a portal.  
Despite knowing all that, it didn't stop him from feeling those phantom touches while he laid in bed. The feeling of greasy fingers all over his body. The sensation of a slimy tongue gliding over his cheek.

The only thing that was even worse were his dreams.  
In those dreams, he wasn't strong enough to fight back against his attacker. In his nightmares, he couldn't stop him and no matter how much he would scream, no one would come to rescue him. No matter how much he yelled or screamed, Rick didn't come…

"I'm just having bad dreams." Morty finally admitted softly.

"Morty, dreams are not real. They can't hurt you, so don't worry about something like that." Rick told him.

"I-I know that!" Morty almost yelled. "But they feel so real. Like it's happening all over again…"

The boy had started to wrap his arms around his small frame, curling in on himself almost as if he hoped he could make himself disappear and tears started to well up in his eyes as he averted his gaze.

"What is—? Oh." Rick interrupted himself, suddenly seeming to realize what he meant. "…the Jellybean guy?"

Morty only nodded curtly in answer, still not daring to look up at his grandfather even though the man had surprisingly spared him from any teasing or cruel remarks despite all expectations.

"Do you wanna sleep in my bed tonight?" Rick offered with a gentle voice.

This did make Morty look up. "C-can I really?"

"Well, duh. I wouldn't offer it if I didn't mean it." Rick repressed an eye roll.

A small smile broke out on Morty's face as he nodded again.

"Okay, then let's go." Rick said as he got up and grabbed the remote to turn off the TV.

In the darkness, they made their way to Rick's room, which was a very short trip considering that it was also on the first floor.  
As they entered the room, Rick only turned on the small old lamp that stood on his bedside table before he ushered Morty to the camping bed.  
As the boy crawled under the covers, he watched how his grandfather got out of his lab coat, blue sweater, shoes, pants and lastly his socks.

"Scoot over. Face to the wall." Rick directed him as he lifted the blanket to also crawl into the bed, now only clad in tank top and boxer shorts.

Morty followed the instructions, turning over and moving as close to the wall as possible.  
Of course, he knew that the small cot would be a tight fit for two people even with how lean his grandfather was, but he couldn't help but feel a little disappointed.  
It was stupid of course. He knew that Rick wasn't a very cuddly person and he should be grateful that he would even let him sleep here to begin with.

Suddenly a slim but strong arm wrapped around Morty's middle and pulled him backwards till his back was resting against a solid chest, Rick becoming a big spoon to Morty's small spoon.  
The boy could feel the elder softly kissing the top of his curls.

"Sleep now, Morty." Rick's voice was merely a gentle whisper.

Morty could feel Rick's steady heartbeat and the calm breaths on the top of his head. His breaths slowed down and started to match those of his grandfather's and the beat of his own heart was starting to beat in the same rhythm as that of the elder.  
He felt warm and safe and truly at home and his ever-tense muscles were relaxing as sleep slowly claimed him.  
He was able to slumber peacefully, phantom touches and nightmares no more than hazy memories in the back of his mind.


End file.
